Page 18 of Talk Vino To Me
“Sorry, I was being a bit of a prat.” His voice is a husky rumble that makes my nether regions tingle. “I wanted a moment alone. I needed to tell you I’m hoping to drag you into one of these quiet little corners and have my way with you, lovely.”
“There’s no time for that,” I murmur, biting my lip to suppress a grin.
“But now you’ll be thinking about it for the rest of the day, won’t you?” He arches a brow at me, and that filthy smile of his makes my heart skip a couple of beats.
I’m about to reply when a lovely voice trills “Ian? Darling boy, is that you?”
We turn toward the sound. A striking older woman approaches us. She’s the epitome of mature glamour. Her platinum blond hair is mostly covered by one of those enormous straw hat with a wide brim. It frames her face to perfection. Her bright blue eyes sparkle with just the right amount of carefully applied shadow, while her cheeks and lips are done up in a soft flattering pink. She’s wearing a lovely summer floral dress in navy with patches of silver shot through it beneath a crisp white blazer, with a navy purse and slingbacks to match. Despite the fact that he looks like Ian, twenty years older, I almost don’t notice the handsome gentleman following her, in his navy suit and silver tie.
“Mum.” Pure relief shines on Ian’s face, and that sexy half smile turns into a full-blown boyish grin. “Dad. I wasn’t sure you’d make it.” He shakes hands with his father, and kisses somewhere near his mother’s cheek. He can’t resist giving her a proper hug, though. She allows it for a few moments before pulling back and looking up at her boy.
“Sweetheart, the property looks just wonderful.” Her voice is an interesting mixture of the American South and London’s Fleet Street. “I cannot imagine how much work it all was.”
“I’ve had quite a lot of help,” he says. “Especially from Daisy.” They all turn toward me. Ian, for no reason at all, throws his arm around my shoulder.
“Mum, Dad, this is Daisy Green. She’s my professional minder.”
“Is that right?” his mother asks. She turns those sharp eyes on me. Uh oh. I know that look and that tone. That’s the way your mama gets when you introduce her to the ‘friend’ who you’ve already told her is absolutely not your girlfriend and could she please be cool about it?
“Daisy, these are my parents, James and Barbara Worthington.” I’m confused for a moment, before I remember that Courage’s manager added Jones to Ian’s last name to make him sound more posh. Meeting his parents now, it seems like the manager was gilding the lily. Ian’s folks are extremely posh as is.
“It’s lovely to meet you both, Mr. and Mrs. Worthington,” I say, casually slipping out of Ian’s embrace. “I’ve been wondering about you.”
“Is that right? Why is that?” James asks.
“Well, Ian’s been wonderful to work with. He’s a very, um, creative problem solver. I’m assuming he picked up those skills at your feet?”
“Ooh,” Barbara says, offering her spouse a brilliant smile. “She’s got your number, James.”
She turns back to me. “Flattery is the quickest way to my husband’s heart.”
“I promise you, it’s the truth,” I reply. “I’ve enjoyed working with Ian very much.”
Mr. Worthington lets out an amused laugh. “Interesting. I’ve often found working with him to be an exercise in frustration.”
“Dad!” Ian protests. “I’m trying to get Daisy on side. You’re not helping.”
He shoots me a wink. I don’t return it. I ignore the tiny frown that settles between his eyebrows.
“You don’t work for Ian, then?” his father asks.
“No. I’m with Behind Closed Doors. The Connor Group hired us.”
“Not Olivia’s company?” Mrs. Worthington asks. At my nod, she beams. “Well, isn’t it just the smallest world?”
“Our son Tyler is best friends with Olivia’s older brother.” Mr. Worthington explains. “The kids all grew up together. Ty sends his regrets, by the way.”
“I think now that we’ve hit our forties, you’re required to stop referring to us as ‘the kids,’ Dad.” Ian’s voice sounds more than a little tense.
“At any rate, we’re very proud of them,” Ian’s mother interjects. “Ty is doing something brilliant with the computers. I don’t pretend to understand it. All I know is he’s very successful in his role. He’s a vice president of oh, something or other.”
His dad jumps in. “And while Ian’s career has been...unconventional, we’re thrilled to see him diversify his interests and take on this new business.”
I’m not entirely sure how to respond. There’s a pained look on Ian’s face, beneath the bland smile he wears. I suspect this is a longstanding argument between him and his parents. Their love for him is obvious, but so is their frustration that he didn’t choose something respectable the way his brother did.
It’s not my place to make them understand his choices. It’s not my place...
“Part of the reason I took this assignment was getting the chance to work with Ian,” I announce, giving them my best smile. “My friends and I were huge fans of his, back when he was with Courage. Their music really spoke to us. It gave us the language we didn’t have for all of our teenaged angst, you know?”